Stupid Behaviour
by Yeah-Yeah-That-Spinny-Chair
Summary: Meet long term sufferer of Selective Laziness & Compulsive Partying Disorder; Antonio. At present, he is trapped in a room with a wannabe vampire, Mr. Gigantabrows & two horny Scandinavians. How? His parents got fed up & sent him to a behavior-correcting school that seems to do the exact opposite of what it's there for. Oh well, at least he's got Francis, Gilbert and the sofa.


_A/N_

 _Yo! Spinny here! This is my first story yada yada yada, feedback is greatly appreciated blah blah blah… I'm sure most of you get the whole fanfiction etiquette that authors hope for but don't receive much of :P Treat others how you wish to be treated, so if you're an author that likes reviews- give reviews!_

 _Anyway, here's to hoping people like this story!_

 _Cheers!_

 _P.s… A series of dashes (e.g. - - - - - - ) means that there's a very small time skip._

Chapter 1- Stupid Parents

Antonio wasn't dumb. Antonio wasn't stupid.

He was very dumb, and very stupid. And his situation was a testament to that.

At present, the Spaniard was in a car. Pretty normal.

But what was abnormal was the fact that he was rudely awoken at the ass-crack of dawn by his parents carrying what appeared to be (and what Antonio currently hoped) was a majority of his belongings.

His parents than began a long verbal spiel about how they were fed up with his behaviour, how he was lazy, how he seemed to have the energy to party all night, despite the fact he was too tired to unload the dishwasher a mere hour beforehand.

All true, of course.

Allegedly, he was off to some kind of boarding school for other young people his age that suffered from selective laziness, compulsive partying disorder and other ailments plaguing the young. Though Antonio couldn't help but wonder if he was being sent off to Aunt Adriana again to clean out that terrible hoarder's garage.

But as the car drove down a gravel driveway, stones pinging off in all directions as the tires threatened their existence, it became awfully clear that his parents had (for once) followed through with their threats.

Across a not-quite neatly mowed lawn was what was, most likely, an old, Victorian house. The house was quite large, much like brunet's own, but unlike Antonio's home, the building appeared to be from another, older time.

Large, arched windows were present in the ground floor, along with a mismatched conservatory, whilst smaller, rectangular windows adorned the first and second floors.

Much to the Spaniard's disappointment, there were no gargoyles. However there was the face of some poor soul being squished against the window of the second floor.

If Antonio wasn't questioning his parent's judgement before, then he certainly was now.

By the sounds of what his parents said, this place was supposed to correct stupid behaviour. But yet there was that poor kid, his glasses wonky and his breathe fogging up the glass as some kid with huge eyebrows yelled at him.

The Spaniard immediately decided this kid was a bully.

Alas, the car finally stopped moving, and Antonio's parents turned around with eerie synchronicity and stared at him for an equally eerie long time.

Eventually, his father spoke.

"Well, we're here, son."

And he would state the obvious, wouldn't he?

After a stressful and barely believably long time, Antonio and his parents achieved the goal of removing his suitcases out of their car. His faith in his mother's decision making skills nearly at rock bottom now, since she had chosen the suitcases without the wheels, for some ridiculous reason Antonio couldn't be bothered to listen to.

When they reached the door, the family were greeted by a short, feminine Chinese man, whom Antonio was only able to have been certain of his gender due to him referring to himself as "Mr. Yao Wang."

The name was very unfortunate, and Antonio was barely able to contain his snicker at the innuendo by smothering his mouth with his sleeve and, by some decision of divine providence, sneezing as the Chinese man turned to assess the Spaniard's reaction.

After staring him down for what felt like an eternity, Mr. Wang turned began an overly long and boring speech about something, probably paperwork.

As it turns out, it must have been something he was supposed to have been listening to, if his parent's expectant faces were anything to go by.

Utterly lost, Antonio just nodded, it's not as if he had much choice in whatever his parents had deemed necessary anyway, given their new resolve to make sure he didn't turn into a frat-boy.

Before the brunet knew it, a pen had been thrust into his hand and a large stack of paper thumped onto the desk in front of him, the ancient wood creaking in protest.

"You only sign this one!" Mr. Wang all but shouted upon noticing Antonio's frazzled attempts to sign the front page, pulling out a page with such velocity it was a miracle the page didn't rip in half.

How the Asian found that specific page on his first try without even looking at the pile of at least 30 pages, he would never know.

The poor Spaniard didn't even get to read what he was signing, he just wanted the piercing glare of the teacher away from him, and so signed everything as quick as possible.

Eventually, Mr. Wang seemed satisfied, and Antonio felt the burning sensation leave his back.

Finally.

However, Antonio was severely disillusioned if he thought the uncomfortable experience was to be over any time soon.

Whilst Antonio's parents had a good ol' polite chat with Mr. W (he just couldn't call him by his full name anymore- the risk of a sudden snort of laughter was too great,) about stuff the Spaniard couldn't really bring himself to care about, he suffered several traumatic experiences which Antonio was certain were to haunt him for life.

First was of all, when the adults were discussing the glory of arched windows (of all things,) Antonio had discovered a crack in a door frame. His curiosity winning over, the Spaniard had decided to peek through said gap, knowing full well that there could be literally _anything_ behind that door. Given the current circumstances, Antonio shouldn't have been surprised as he was to see a hot, blonde girl throwing knifes at a cushion. But then again, said cushion was attached to the wall via neon-green cutlery.

Then there was the guy with enviable hair sat reading a magazine. Sounds normal enough; except the guy was naked.

But probably the most disturbing of all was the guy- no girl- no… The androgynous blond, who gave Antonio bedroom eyes whilst walking past, muttering "I'd totally tap that."

What made the whole experience 100 times worse was that he was pretty certain he could hear the guy from earlier still having his face crushed against a window.

"Yeah totally tap that." The… person whispered as they peaked through the slowing shrinking gap in the door.

"Antonio!" came his father's voice, snapping the brunet out of his shock. Turning, he saw his parents and Mr. Wa- W, who still looked like he had a stick up his ass.

Did none of them seriously no see that this place was a nut-house?

"It's time to take your luggage upstairs," his mother began, before exchanging a look with his father. "And meet your roommates."

…What?

"Why you so surprised?" Mr. W began in his most recent attack. "You space out a lot!"

Maybe it was now that Antonio began to realise that this place would be the death of him.

 _A/N_

 _Quite slow so far, I know. Silently hoping there are no typos... The house I failed miserably at describing is based off Leeson House Field Studies Centre in Dorset, which I went to for a biology field trip in second year college… Look it up if you wish :)_

 _Until the next chapter~ Maybe in a week? I may be overly optimistic about that though_


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